Skull –my sort of friend
by Fantasy101
Summary: A social work student has been assigned to work with Mr S Holmes who has just been released from re-hab. This is about how the social work student who goes from helper to victim; becoming a skull on a mantelpiece (No romance or pairings. Tried not to have a Mary-sue character) Just always wondered what the Skulls story was and this is what I came up with.
1. The Skull: prologue

Title: Skull –my sort of friend

Summary: A social work student has been assigned to work with Mr S Holmes who has just been realised from re-hab. This is about how the social work student helps shape a detective and then becomes a skull on a mantelpiece (No romance or pairings. Tried not to have a Mary-sue character).

A/N: This story is told through the skulls' point of view before it became just a skull. The character is not created at male or female so that you can make your own mind up about this. I also left the character nameless as it leaves the Skull with some mystery. I hope you enjoy. The character might not be quite right but this was seven years ago before Sherlock meet John Watson.

Profile

_Name: Sherlock Holmes_

_Age: 26_

_Rehab Centre:_

_Exit rehab centre:_

_Assigned case worker: none identified. _

_History: Mr HOLMES has been a confirmed addict for 7 years. Mr HOLMES has been to rehab twice before and each time being asked to leave the program due to inability to follow rehab rules. Mr HOLMES choice of drug is normally cocaine. Mr HOLMES current residents with his eldest brother Mr M HOLMES in London. Very little at this stage is known about Mr HOLMES due to his lack of engagement with the program. _

_Mr HOLMES did complete the final 12 week program with NAME rehab centre. However, participated very little within the program. _

_Mr HOLMES would rarely sleep and play his violin at odd hours during the night, this would anger stuff and the other residents. Mr HOLMES has no insight into social behaviours norms. It has been suggested by the Psychologist that Mr HOLMES is a sociopath. However, as Mr HOLMES will not speak with the Psychologist this has not been able to be confirmed._

_Likes: Experiments_

_Dislikes: Stupide people. _

_Warnings: Can be extremely rude and enjoys angering people._

_Week One_

I looked up from the profile of Mr Sherlock Holmes. I felt very nervous. My first day on my placement and I had already been given a case. The field officer, Ms Darleen, explaining that there are so many cases at the moment she did not have a choice. Ms Darleen states that the case was a man that had recently been released from rehab and now must be assigned a drug and Alcohol worker. The Drug and Alcohol worker would aid Mr Holmes get back on his feet, find employment, stay off the drugs and if possible provide counselling or other services if needed. Ms Darleen stated that I just had to meet Sherlock at least once a week; but the look that she gave me stated that she did not believe I would be on the case long.

Another drug and alcohol worker (whose name I had not learned yet) before I left wishing me luck stating that five other workers were currently on stress leave due to their small encounters with the man. I did not find that reassuring at all.

Taking a deep breath I walked up to the building in front of me. I was told that Mr Sherlock Holmes lived with his brother who was apparently very well off. He owned the whole living complex, but resided in one part with his younger brother. I thought that it was nice that at least Sherlock had his brother to look out for him.

I knocked on the door. There was no answer.

I tried again after a few moments.

I waited, taking out my phone to check the time. 10:02am. I had organised with Mr Holmes (Sherlock's brother) that I would be there at 10:00am. I remembered speaking to Mr Holmes over the phone after I could not get through to Sherlock. Mr Holmes was very curt and to the point, not overly rude. He stated to be at his residence tomorrow at 10:00am sharp and Sherlock would be there.

10:08am.

I debated about knocking again for the hundredth time or to just leave. But remembering the face of my filed officer, I did not want to admit defeat just yet. I pulled out my work phone and dialled Mr Holmes number. I brought it up to my ear and waiting. After the third ring the phone picked up.

"Yes."

I swallowed down my nerves, "Good morning, Mr Holmes, it is-"

"Yes, I know who you are, what can I do for you?" _Right no pleasantries, right to the point then_ I thought before answering.

"I have been knocking on the door outside the building, but there has been no answer. Is everything Ok?" I glanced back at the door half expecting it to finally open.

I heard an expatriated sigh, "His they're just not opening the door. Just go inside." With that, he hung up.

"Right, ok then." I muttered to myself feeling slightly put out. I put my phone in my pocket and with a moment's hesitation pushed the door open. The first thing a saw was a small entrance, but then I heard music up the stairs. The violin.

I smiled, thinking about how soft and beautiful it sounded. I made my way up the staircase towards the music. I found myself at the end of a small hallway at the top of the stairs looking at a closed doorway. I knocked on the door, "Hello." I said waiting for the door to open. However, after noting that the music did not stop nor did anyone let me in I twisted the door handle and pushed the white door open. The first thing that hit me was the smell. It smelt like my old science classroom – chemicals and rats. I thought this was a little odd as the rest of the house smelt fresh and clean. Then I noticed the clutter and mess. Books, a persons severed hand, sitting on the bookcase, magazines and chemistry items. I finally saw, who I assumed was Sherlock standing next to the window playing. He was tall, very tall, especially compared to my five foot four self. Dark curly hair, nice clothing (looked expensive) very pale skin. He looked nothing compared to the other clients that I had seen around the center. Though I had a feeling Sherlock was very different to most people.

"Good morning Sherlock." The playing finally stopped and he looked at me with a piercing blue gaze, if looks could kill, and for a moment I wished that I had just shut up. "I'm your Drug and Alcohol worker or D and A as many people call us."

His gaze flicked over my body for just a second or two before turning and began playing again. "No you're not, you're a student. The first week, the stupid fool that is supposed to be teaching you sent you hear about your own as she was too afraid to come out again – can't handle the fact that her husband is cheating on her with the mailman." I blinked

"What?" I questioned, quite confused.

"Not very good are you. Of course not, only barely passed your subjects- not very intelligent. No partner or current lovers. Fighting with your parents about having moved all the way to London rather than staying in the family business. Though who can blame you there farming is not the most exiting of trades. Though at least they still have your younger brother to take it all on"

I swallowed, "How?"

Was all I got out before he continued, "Though your brother clearly does not want to take it over either. Though despite the arguments that it has caused at home here you are in the big city of London. Staying with three roommates who you despise- all of which are smokers, druggies and lowlifes. Though at least you have the cat across the street you feed every morning. Oh, what a wonderful exciting life you lead."

_Ouch_

"Of course you can't move out, you don't know anyone and can't afford London on your own while you're still working at the pub at night. Of course you hate it there to with the boss always hitting on you. Pathetic little life."

I took a moment. Clearly this was the little stunt that he had somehow pulled with the others- all of which are now on stress leave or too afraid to step through the door.

The field officers look flashed in front of my eyes. That look that believed I would not be able to handle this man. I took a deep breath before speaking, hoping my voice did not shake as I spoke.

"How did you do that?" I questioned. "Looked it up?" Genuine curiosity

The playing, paused. He turned to look at me again, his eyes scanning my face. I allowed it waiting for a reply. "I observe." He stated after a moment.

"Observe? Like you read people? Like a psychic?" I asked, hoping he would say no.

"Please!" He placed the violin gently down. "People see things all the time, but they never observe! I observe people." He walked over to me and began circling, "Such as I could tell you to grow up on a farm because of your calloused hands."

"How could you tell I didn't want to do it anymore?" I asked.

"Easy, you're here and not at home."

"Fair point, but how could you tell I was fighting with my parents?" I questioned further.

He smirked "Before you knocked on the door you were on the phone with someone else and hung up on them quite angry."

"That could have been anyone."

"Could have but was not." Before I let him go on any further I spoke up.

"But you did get one thing wrong." I said with a sad smile.

"What?" He snapped looking at me pointedly. I knew I was not supposed to speak about myself or disclose personal information to a client. However, I figure he clearly new already and what he didn't he would soon learn. Making an exception to the rule might not be too bad as a once off.

"We were not fighting because I didn't want to stay and work on the farm. We are fighting because my brother died working on the farm due to poor equipment." I took a moment to allow the information to sink in. I expected an apology – this is not what I got.

"Damnit! Always something!" He snapped, throwing himself dramatically onto the couch. "Now leave." He snapped.

"No." I said with a smile.

He looked up at me glaring, "all the other workers left. They didn't last. Either will you." It sounded like a challenge to me.

"I am not them." We looked at each other for a moment. He searched my eyes looking for something. I am not sure what he found, but he finally huffed picking up a book and began reading. At least trying to look like he was reading. "Here." I put down on the office table a small folder. "There is my work number, information about employment and staying clean. We will be meeting once a week. Though if you need more I am happy to arrange more meet ups. Is there a regular day and time we could meet?"

Sherlock did not answer

"Why don't we just say the same time next week. 10:00am Friday. If there are things that you would like to work on with me we can do that each week. Maybe have a think about it?"

I allowed a moment for Sherlock to reply though it was clear this was not going to happen today. "You need to answer your phone, but maybe text would be better? I will text you Friday morning before I head out to check you will be here. Though I don't mind meeting elsewhere."

I walked towards the door, however before I left I spoke up again, "Thank you for today Sherlock. The observation thing…. Well, though it was a little hurtful, was quite amazing." I smiled as his eyes stopped moving on the book, just for a second. "I'll see you next week." I left.


	2. The Skull: The Story

Title: Skull –my sort of friend

Summary: A social work student has been assigned to work with Mr S Holmes who has just been realised from re-hab. This is about how the social work student helps shape a detective and then becomes a skull on a mantelpiece (No romance or pairings. Tried not to have a Mary-sue character).

A/N: This story is told through the skulls' point of view before it became just a skull. The character is not created at male or female so that you can make your own mind up about this. I also left the character nameless as it leaves the Skull with some mystery. I hope you enjoy. The character might not be quite right but this was seven years ago before Sherlock meet John Watson.

Week Two

I did not bother knocking this time. Sherlock never replied to my text so I just walked on up towards his bedroom. There was no music this time, but there was a lot of noise. "Sherlock?" I questioned as I walked inside.

I screamed…. Like a little girl.

"What the hell Sherlock?" There was a human head… on the office table. I had remembered seeing a hand last week, but I had assumed it was fake. Not anymore.

He glanced up over his magnifying glasses, "Experiment." Was the only explanation he gave.

"What? What for?" I asked, shocked and more shock on my face.

"What's it matter you would not understand anyway."

I laughed, Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Hurtful but most likely true." He tried to hide it, but I did see an almost smile there for a moment. "Well." I sat down on the couch, "How was your week?"

"Boring!" I snapped, "Pointless questions. Is that all you're going to do ask pointless questions?"

I blinked, "Well, what would you like to speak about?" I questioned.

He smirked. "I see your flatmates kept you awake all night again."

No point denying it, "Yeah." I replied, "But were supposed to be talking about you Sherlock. Like if you've used at all since you left the center?"

Sherlock sneered, "You tell me."

"I can't observe like you Sherlock. But I would like to think not." But we both knew that was not likely.

"So these flatmates of yours, why did you move in with them?" I sighed, he clearly did not want to speak about it today. Though I suppose this was only our second meeting, despite it feeling like a lifetime.

I half shrugged, "Because I signed the lease before I meet them all."

We spoke for some time after this about my flat mates, work and his experiments. Until we got onto the topic of Mr Holmes.

"It's good of him to let you stay here." I stated.

"Please! He would not let me go anywhere else!" He snapped out frustrated, not at me, but at his brother.

"Still, it's nice that he cares."

"He does not care! He is just controlling!" Before I could reply my phone rang.

"Sorry Sherlock." I pulled my phone out of my pocket to check who it was. It was work. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" It was Ms Darleen

"I'm at Sherlock's, why? What's wrong?" I questioned, hearing the annoyance in her tone.

"You're still there? It's almost five". My eyes widened in surprised. I had been here for hours. No wonder I was hungry.

"Ok, I will leave in a moment. I will see you on Monday." She did not say goodbye before she hung up. _Rude_.

"Dinner?" It was not me who asked. I glanced up at Sherlock. I knew I should say no, it was after hours. But if he wanted to keep talking well that was good. I also couldn't say I minded.

"Sure, you can tell me more about what you deduced about Darleen." I started grinning as I grabbed my jacket. He grabbed his jacket as well and we made our way out.

"Arr so much to say …." Sherlock began as we left.

Week 14

I had been working with Sherlock for 14 weeks now. At first I wanted him to open up and speak to him. But now I just wanted him to shut up.

"Sherlock, I'm on a date!" I snapped. Sherlock having pulled up a chair and sat between us. My date looked very uncomfortable.

"I can see." Then, with a half glance stated, "6 cats? A bit excessive don't you think?" My date glared at Sherlock before excusing themselves.

I sighed, no second date for me. "Sherlock, why are you here?"

"Because your spouse to stop me from using." He grabbed a chip from my plate.

"I am not your AA sponsor Sherlock." I sighed, my date clearly already ruined, and clearly not coming back. _How embarrassing_. "You're thinking of using?" I question.

"It's why I am here." No, it's because his board. But never mind that now.

I threw some cash onto the table, "Come on then, I have an idea."

He stood following me out.

It didn't take long before we found ourselves at laser tag.

"Laser tag? This is ridiculous we are not children." He snapped. But I noticed he did not leave. I grinned. "Let's make a deal, hmm?"

"I'm listening."

"If we play, and you enjoy it you have to come with me to the employment agency next week."

"And if I do not?" Clearly believing this would be the case.

I thought for a moment, "Then you can pick next week's activity." He thought for a moment. "Ok" He held out his hand to shake.

Before my hand grasped his I stated, "But you actually have to try. No half-arsing it!"

"Very well." He replied. I smiled and shook his hand.

"The game is on!" I stated with a grin.

Two hours later.

We were both laughing as we exited the building, "Did you see that kids face when you jumped down from there. Hilarious!"

He laughed alongside me, "It was highly amusing."

"I knew you would be great at this game! With that big brain of yours there was no way we were going to lose." I stated as my laughing began to die down. But I still felt high on the adrenaline.

"Yes, well, when you pushed me out of the way of that red haired girl and then shot her, "He paused, "That was," he paused again, "good." He finally finished. Emotions and manners clearly not his strong point. This was a big win for me.

"I grinned. It was fun, we'll have to do it again sometime." I glance over at him from the corner of my eye as we walked heading towards the tube.

"Indeed." I blinked. Did he just admit he enjoyed himself? He did!

I grinned, "You enjoyed yourself!"

He glared, but did not deny it.

Week 15

We sat outside the employment agency devoted. I also felt quite embarrassed.

I sighed and scratched the back of my head, "Maybe an employment agency is not the way to find you a job."

My mind flashed on the poor employment women who was crying and then screamed for security after Sherlock had told her life story including the crush on her female co-worker. Awkward. Needless to say not my best idea when it came to Sherlock.

"Indeed." I could hear the amusement in his tone. _Typical_.

Week 18

I have known Sherlock for 18 weeks now. I was also know longer a student. I had finally graduated and had been offered a job, in hopes that I would continue to work with Sherlock. I accepted. Though right at this moment I wish I had not.

You see, Sherlock since week 14 has gotten in the habit of texting me, a lot. At random times. He is also texting my personal mobile not by work. I asked how he got my personal mobile, but he just laughed. Probably Mr Holmes.

"Sherlock, go away." It was 3:26am on a Friday night – well Saturday morning, and I was at home in bed with Sherlock is looking down at me. Needless to say if this had been the first time I would have been bloody freaked out. But sadly this had been the 14th time. The first time I had screamed like a little girl who found a monster under the bed.

I pushed my face into the pillow, trying to ignore Sherlock. "Your flat mates are making more noise than I am." He stated. Which was true, they were all out in the living room drinking and well I didn't ask what else.

"Yes, I know, but they're not in my room." Which had been locked, but this was Sherlock so I was not going to bother asking.

"It's Friday night you should be partying! Your younger than me, why are you not out drinking like the others?" I had been surprised he had not figured it all out by now, but my spouse even Sherlock Holmes can't be perfect.

"Because I have been at work all week and now I am tired and I just want to sleep." He did not leave, "Because I don't like to party."

"Something bad happened?" I sighed, rolling over glancing up at him.

"I don't want to talk about it Sherlock." He sat down on the bed. That is when I smelt it. He had been drinking. I sat up in the bed, ignoring as he began to deduce what had happened to me as a teenager. I pushed his left sleeve up to see the track marks there.

_Damn._

He pulled his arm out of my grasp.

"This is none of your concern." My eyes narrowed as he stood from the bed and began busying himself around the room.

"Of course it is Sherlock, I'm your worker!" I wanted to say friend at this point, but now that was pretty pointless. "I care."

"You care because you have to." I shook my head and snapped back, "I care because I want to! Because you're a good person!"

He looked up, but before he could interrupt I continued, "Let me tell you what I observe about you, Sherlock Holmes!" He stood listening as I spoke my voice becoming softer and less angry as I went on. "I see a person with lots of anger, because of a trauma as a child or because you never fit in I don't know –maybe both. I see a man you learned to play an instrument that requires great care and patience. I see a man who cares so much that he won't let anyone in. I see a man who is so brilliant that he could do anything – ANYTHING- he wanted, but he doesn't because trying would mean caring and god forbid you care for anything. I have seen the way you can focus for hours on an experiments, play laser tag with a bunch of teens and sing Karaoke at the local Pub for kicks!" I took a deep breath to continue, "You are the most strangers, amazing and intelligent man I have ever met and I would hate to be at your funeral because you overdosed. It would truly be a waste!"

I was breathing a little heavily at this point, but Sherlock had not left and had not healed or hit me so I figured I was still ok at this point. "You're a good person Sherlock Holmes."

He did not reply just left. I sighed, maybe I should not have said all that?

Week 29

Sherlock and I were fine, we had moved on pretending that night had never happened, but I was more careful about what I said.

I sat in the office typing up case notes when I Ms Darleen popped her head in, "There is an officer who wants to speak to you about a case." I looked up unsure, "Sherlock?" I am questioning, a likely assumption at this point.

She is shocked her head, "No the Thatcher case." I nodded, standing and heading out to the interview room. "Good afternoon, sir." I held out my hand to the Police Officer.

"Lestrade" He started shaking my hand, "I am here about Grant Thatcher." I nodded, "Sure how can I help?"

"He was murdered last night." I gasped in shock.

"He was what? Why?" I asked I moved to sit down on the office chair. He moved to sit across from me.

"I was hoping you could help me figure that out. We are a little stumped with what happened." He scratched the back of his head.

I glanced at him, "You're not a detective?" I questioned.

"No, just hoping to get promoted to Detective." I smiled at his honesty.

We spoke for about an hour about the case. I gave him all the information that I could include friends, family, where he liked to stay, drug of choice, crime of choice and girlfriend. We shook hands again and I watched as he left.

I sat there for a while just letting everything sink in.

Then it hit me.

I quickly grabbed a pen and wrote on one of my business cards before I ran.

"Lestrade!" I shouted as I ran down the street finally catching up with him at the end of the street, "Wait!"

He laughed, "You ok?" I nodded, taking a moment to catch my breath – _I really need to work out more_.

"I'm fine. I just thought of something." He began pulling out his notebook again, "No. Not about the case." He raised his eyebrow but before he could accuse me of hitting on him or something I spoke. "I know someone who could help."

"Help? Did he know the victim?" I shook my head no, "Then how could he help- no one of those psychics now." I laughed

"No, nothing like that. But he could help. His brilliant, really clever and amazing with observation and clues." He rolled his eyes

"Armature he likes to think there a detective. No, its ok -" I interrupted him. "No, nothing like that. Please. Just think about it. I can set up a meeting, though his number is on the card as well if you just want to call him directly – though the text is usually better. I promise you won't regret it." I paused for a moment, "Well, you might but I promise he will be able to help. His name is Sherlock Holmes. He is a right git, but he is a good person and I hope one day, with a little help, that he will be a great one as well." I took out my card, "Here have a think about it, if you still can't work it out, call me and I can set up a meet. Just meet him and see for yourself. I promise you won't regret it." I looked stern at him holding my card out. _Please_.

He sighed, taking my card, "I'll think about it."

I smiled, "That's all I ask."

Week 32

I was out drinking. The first time since I was 19 years old. It was for a friend's birthday.

"Cheers!" We clicked glasses before allowing the vodka shot to roll down the back of our throats.

"So how's work?" Rebecca asked with a grin.

"That's right, what's his name, Sherlsic?" Matthew piped up.

I rolled my eyes, "He's a client so I can't talk about it." Not that it mattered, they had all met him at one stage or another, with him popping up to parties, catch ups and weddings it was hard not to.

"Sherlock!" Lee stated.

Jo replied, "That's it!"

Rebecca went on, "Where is he tonight?"

I smiled, "visiting relatives." I laughed. It had been funny getting him ready to send him off to see his parents. I had been able to meet them once, lovely people. How they made Sherlock and Mr Holmes I will never know.

2:00am

I found myself in a club. Well, right now I was sitting outside the club. My head was dizzy, having drank far too much.

Suddenly someone was sitting in the gutter beside me. I looked over to see a blond man looking quite intoxicated himself, "You Ok?"

He looked over at me, "Yeah, its fine. It's all fine." We both laughed.

He leaned back on his hands, "Ever get sick of the night seen just want to settle down?" I looked over at him again.

"Sometimes." I replied, "I am guessing you've been thinking about it?"

He laughed, "Nuh far too boring, but maybe one day. If I find the right girl." Before I could reply he went on, "You believe in soul mates?"

Normally I would have thought before answer, but since I was quite intoxicated I blurt out, "Are you hitting on me?" I laughed.

He laughed as well, "I'm an army doctor."

I laughed again, "No wonder you would find settling down boring." As he took a sip of his pint I went on, "Maybe your soul mate is not a woman to settle down with and have kids. Maybe it's a best friend that will give you on your toes, full of adventure and danger?"

"WATSON! COME ON!" A man yelled from the end of the street.

He smiled slapping his hand on my back as he stood, "Maybe, be pretty perfect, yeah?" I smiled and waved him off as he left.

Drunken conversations always are random.

My phone buzzed. I looked down to see Sherlock name flashing on the screen. I opened the text and read it out loud, "I heard from an officer named Lestrade." I smiled. Things would work out.

Week 34

"Hey Sherlock." I smiled across at him. We were out at a coffee house, a stakeout according to Sherlock in regards to his case with Lestrade.

"Quite."

"Yes, I figured that." I stood.

"Where are you going?" He questioned, looking up at me.

"I have to go see a new client, I'm already late. But we can meet up again later if you like." I pulled my jacket on.

"You can't go now." He stated.

"Why not?" I asked.

His reply was quick, "Because I need a good sounding board, you're not very smart, but your listening allows me to process. Better than speaking to thin air anyway." Before I had met Sherlock I would have been very offended by that. But these days I took it for what it was, an almost compliment.

"You don't need me Sherlock. Your brilliant without me sitting here telling you so." Though it was clear he liked to hear it each time.

"Fine," he finally snapped. I smiled, "I'll text you when I am finished and you can let me know how it's all going."

With that I left.

Walking down the street with a smile on my face. Life was pretty good in this very moment. Sherlock had opened up to me and was working. If it turned out well he would be able to keep moving forward. I was about to move out of my flat and in with people I actually liked, I was speaking with my parents again and even Mr Holmes had given me a compliment "Well, you didn't run screaming like the rest", well as close to a compliment as one could get with Mr Holmes.

Life was good.

"Hi!" I turned.

A loud bang. I looked across at Thatcher's ex-girlfriend. Gun firmly in her hands she walked towards me.

My hands lifted up to touch my chest. Blood.

I knew I shouldn't have jinxed it.

I didn't want to die.

I looked up at Thatcher ex those cold brown eyes. I could not speak and she did not say anything as she aimed again for my chest before she pulled the trigger.

Then nothing.

Chapter Two

I blinked looking over at Sherlock who sat in his room looking down at a skull, "Is that my skull?" I questioned.

I flinched looking surprised at me. "What are you doing here? You're dead!" He snapped.

"Obliviously." I rolled my eyes moving to sit across from him, "You're imagining me out of guilt. Clearly!" My head flicked sideways, "Though why would you feel guilty?"

His hands ran across the skull, "It was my fault you got killed." Before I could speak he jumped in, "The stake out, your client" he spat the last word, "was all a trap! I didn't see it!"

I looked down at my skull, "They did more to me than just shoot me, huh?"

"They attempted to get rid of any evidence that could identify you, thankfully they were bad at it and we court them before they could get rid of the bones." He still looked quite distress.

"You court him, that's good. I Lestrade going to let you work with him again?" I smiled thinking this was a good thing.

He shrugged, "I don't know." His confidence still building from the past traumas. Though I knew it would not be long before his confidence (cough ego cough) out shined the sun.

"Well even if not I know you enjoyed this!" It was clear even if I wasn't just a figment of his imagination right now, "you could do it for other people."

"OH!" He stood up arms flying everywhere, "Consulting detective!" He pulled his lap top out and began typing.

I smiled this would all work out, even if that did mean I would be tagging along until he found a friend.


	3. The Skull: Epilogue

Title: Skull –my sort of friend

Summary: A social work student has been assigned to work with Mr S Holmes who has just been realised from re-hab. This is about how the social work student helps shape a detective and then becomes a skull on a mantelpiece (No romance or pairings. Tried not to have a Mary-sue character).

A/N: This story is told through the skulls' point of view before it became just a skull. The character is not created at male or female so that you can make your own mind up about this. I also left the character nameless as it leaves the Skull with some mystery. I hope you enjoy. The character might not be quite right but this was seven years ago before Sherlock meet John Watson.

Epilogue

Seven Years later.

"Is that a real skull?" John Watson questioned. I smiled as I stood next to my skull, "Goon tell him who I am Sherlock!" I laughed.

"Yes, of course. Was a friend… though when I say friend…" They quickly moved on as I laughed at Sherlock's awkwardness.

It was not long after that Lestrade floated in.

I smiled as Lestrade and Sherlock banted as John sat down on the chair in amazement. As Sherlock left I stopped him in the hallway, "Sherlock, his a Doctor."

Sherlock glared at me, "So"

"So! You could use him." I waited for Sherlock to catch on to his own brilliantness.

He clicked his fingers, "Of course!" He moved back up the stairs.

I chuckled.

"The game is on John!"

I glared as they left the house, "That's my line Sherlock!"

At 221B baker street sitting above the fireplace sits a skull. A skull that was no longer human but would always be watching over the boys at 221B Baker Street throughout their adventures. As without this skull the most famous detective in all of London may never have found his destiny.

Baker Street is quite and as Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson run through London. A shadow appears over the skull. The shadow smiles as it speaks those famous words, "The game is on."

And this is not the end but the beginning of Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson's adventures.


End file.
